


Idle Touches.

by biblio_witch



Series: The Devil's Backbone (Bellarke) [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, The 100 - Freeform, Touching, cuteness, pre-season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblio_witch/pseuds/biblio_witch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy has a very hands-on approach to life that Clarke isn't used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idle Touches.

_All my agony fades away,_

_When you hold me in your embrace._

Clarke hadn't realised how... hands on, Bellamy was, until he'd gotten over his inane dislike for her. Before, when they'd declared each other enemies, or at the very least nuisances to the others' cause, Bellamy had avoided her like the plague, had gone as far to lean away whenever he was stood near her. Whenever they spoke, he wore a permanent scowl and his voice was more often than not a gruff snap of annoyance.

She'd seen it everywhere else, of course. Seen how he'd touched Octavia, squeezed her shoulder, kissed her forehead, ticked her sides when he thought she was sad. He was a big brother, after all, and had that care-free way of interacting with his little sister, like it was just second nature to be gentle and to be kind with his hands and body, like some kind of ridiculous, over-sized teddy bear, like the scruffy, stained thing that Clarke used to drag along the metal floors of the Ark every day. 

Clarke had noticed it when Bellamy messed around with his men, too. His followers, his guard, or whatever anyone wanted to call them. She'd thought that they were just mindless sheep, blindly following the biggest oaf around. But it wasn't until one of them had gotten injured pretty badly that Clarke realised Bellamy  _cared._ He'd stayed in the medical bay longer even than Clarke, had stayed up through the night, had held onto Adam's hand while Clarke got a few moments rest. Clarke noticed how the boys wrestled good-naturedly with Bellamy, how Bellamy never failed to squeeze their shoulders, or slap them on the back. How Bellamy ruffled the younger kids hair, or lifted a few of the younger girls up onto his wide shoulders so they could pick flowers from the branches of some trees. 

So she'd noticed how he touched people often. But she hadn't known that once Bellamy liked you, or at least didn't _dislike_ you, then that was when you would be subjected to his hands on approach to life. 

It had started when they'd brought the guns back from the bunker, after they'd stood as a united front before the 100, when they were both depositing the guns in Bellamy's tent, stowing them away under his bed so that they'd be a little safer. Clarke had stood up, but had doubled over almost immediately, hissing with pain as her hands had gone to her stomach. 

Bellamy had looked up, eyes widening as her face twisted in a grimace. He'd reached out and gripped her upper arm, steadying her as she'd breathed in and out for a few measured moments. 

"What is it?" he'd asked, clearly concerned.  _That's new,_ Clarke thought. What was even newer was his hand on her arm, gentle and light. "Are you alright?" his free hand had settled on her other arm and he'd held her slightly away so he could scrutinize her expression. She'd blinked at him, surprised.

"Just where he hit me," she shrugged, wondering how quickly she could shake off his hands without being impolite "He must have bruised my stomach, is all."

"Want me to look at it?" he'd offered, quirking an eyebrow. Clarke almost asked if he was serious, had almost snarked out a sarcastic comment about _oh, didn't know you were a doctor, Blake._ But she didn't, because he  _was_ serious, and he was concerned, and she was as grateful as she was confused. 

"Nah, I got it. Thanks though." she'd turned to leave, shaking his hands off successfully as she'd ducked out of his tent, throwing a haphazard _goodnight_ over her shoulder. 

*** 

Clarke was stood in the medical bay, judging the bruises sprawled across her stomach as best she could upside down. She hadn't thought much on Bellamy touching her, but had passed it off as a one time thing. She'd shown him kindness, he'd repaid the favour, they were good now. So when she shoved the drapes/door to the dropship aside, planning on heading down to the river for more water and also for a quick dip/bath, she was surprised when Bellamy called her name and jogged over. 

She carried on walking, turning her head to raise her eyebrows at him. Clarke almost jumped away when she felt his large hand on her back, almost guiding her as they walked. She frowned, but his face was indifferent, like he didn't realise he was touching her. 

"Where are you going?" it wasn't even a challenge and he wasn't fighting to push her in a certain direction either. The contact was light, his hand on the small of her back just resting there, completely normal to him, it seemed. 

"The river," she told him, trying not to have a reaction "Med bay needs more water, and also I need a wash." 

"Okay, cool." he nodded, she raised an eyebrow, no argument? Huh. "Want me to assign you a guard?" 

"I would really rather not have trigger happy hormonal boys watching over me while I strip." it hadn't meant to be a joke, but Bellamy laughed. She tripped over a rock on the ground because she was too busy looking at his face in surprise to watch her feet, and as she stumbled Bellamy caught at her arm and pulled her upright, and the look on her face made him laugh harder. Eventually, she scowled and gave him a shove on the shoulder, nose wrinkled in disgust. 

"Hey," he held up his hands in surrender, all lightheartedness and gentle smiles "Sorry, your face was just funny." she huffed and went to walk away, but he caught her sleeve and turned her around again "Hey, uh, would you mind taking Octavia with you? If she wants to go, obviously." Clarke tilted her head, frowning "It's just, she hates being cooped up here, but refuses to go anywhere with a guard. Maybe she wouldn't mind going with you." 

"You'd trust me with... Octavia?" Clarke stared at him. She didn't miss the fact that this was the ultimate level of trust that you could reach with Bellamy. Octavia was his heart and soul, if he trusted you with her... 

"Sure," he shrugged, almost confused at her own confusion. "She's never had a friend. I'd like it if you two were friends; she needs someone." 

Clarke, struck speechless, simply nodded consent, and waited patiently for Bellamy as he went to find Octavia. The latter of which rocketed into view a few minutes later, grinning broadly and jumping eagerly as she joined Clarke's side. 

Bellamy appeared, rolling his eyes as he jogged to keep up. Octavia was already pulling insistently at Clarke's arm, yanking on her hand as she gushed about going swimming and  _hey maybe mermaids exist now 'cause of all the radiation, it could definitely happen right?_ Bellamy accompanied them to the gate, hugged Octavia as they passed through and placed a large, warm hand on Clarke's shoulder, squeezing gently as he looked down at her. 

"Look after her, alright?" Clarke nodded, completely serious as Octavia skipped ahead. "And, well... have fun." he smiled then, squeezed her shoulder one last time before disappearing back inside the gate. Clarke turned away and ran to catch up with Octavia, who immediately grabbed her hand and hurried her along quicker. 

 _Huh,_ Clarke thought, _maybe the hands on approach runs in the family._

*** 

A few days had passed since the incident by the bunker, and Clarke was starting to get almost annoyed with Bellamy. 

Since that night, he'd become a lot more casual with his handling of her. Meaning that the hand-on-the-small-of-the-back-thing was apparently a permanent development in their relationship. Every time they were walking somewhere, his hand would find her back, if they were addressing the group together, as they sometimes did, it was his hand on her back, even if they were just stood beside each other, his hand was on her freaking back. Though, Clarke had been much too polite to make a big deal out of it, so she didn't comment, and usually found an excuse to slide away from him as soon as possible. 

She was walking ahead of him now, making a trip back to the river for some more seaweed, Bellamy and Octavia in tow. Oh yeah, Octavia had become an almost constant figure in Clarke's life, hanging around the med bay, staying in Clarke's tent late into the night, sleeping over sometimes too. Not that Clarke minded, Octavia was clearly lonely, and so was Clarke. The problem was that where Octavia went, Bellamy was usually close behind. So when Clarke had mentioned going to get seaweed, Octavia had dragged Clarke out, and Bellamy had followed, his hand of _course_ on the small of Clarke's back. 

Though she noticed he did it to Octavia as well, as they were walking side by side. Either that or he walked with his arm flung across Octavia shoulders, her nestled into his side. Clarke would be damned if their relationship escalated to that. 

It was as they were climbing a particularly rocky part of the trail when Bellamy snagged her arm, helping her along her way. Octavia was as sure footed as some kind of freaky woodland nymph, and Bellamy was the same - didn't even wobble. But Clarke stumbled along like she'd only figured out how to walk a few minutes before, and Bellamy had taken her arm, guiding her with a small smile as he chatted to Octavia ahead of him, murmuring quietly for where it was best for Clarke to put her feet. 

He dropped her arm when they'd managed to get passed the rocks, but it was only a few minutes later when the path was interrupted by a particularly large fallen tree. Clarke had gone around it the couple of times she'd walked, mostly because her legs were too short to scramble up, but Bellamy was already jumping the height, using his arms and legs to propel himself up. He reached for Octavia, and she didn't even bat an eyelid as he seized her under the arms and pulled her up - quite easily, Clarke noted - balancing her on the body for a moment before lowering her down by her wrists on the other side. 

Clarke eyed him, wary as he beckoned her forward. 

"Come on, Princess," he rolled his dark eyes and shoved back the unruly mop of curls from his forehead "Don't have all day here." 

"You sure you'll be able to lift me?" she wrinkled her nose, doubtful as she measured the height of the tree and the size of Bellamy's biceps. The tree was so thick that it reached all the way up to her shoulders - much to high for her to climb. She didn't think any of the other boys could haul a girl of her size up that high, not Finn or Murphy or Miller. It was funny picturing the likes of Jasper and Monty trying it though. 

"That's practically an insult, Clarke." he snorted, "You're tiny, so come here." 

It was her turn to snort "I'm not exactly Octavia." She wasn't, she was chubby around the belly and thighs, and she liked it that way. 

"For crying out loud, get  _here._ " he snagged her by the collar of her jacket and dragged her forward, and before she could even let out a yelp he'd hooked his forearms under her arms and yanked her up onto the tree. She gasped and shoved him back, sat on her butt and staring at him in annoyance. He hadn't even let out a sound, hadn't even exerted himself. She glared. He laughed at her as he jumped down, landing with a muffled thud. Bellamy turned back and opened his arms, eyebrows raised in expectation. 

Clarke sighed and scooted off the edge, reached out to place her hands on his wide shoulders. His hands went to her waist, and before she could shuffle forward and drop off the edge, he simply lifted her off, with no other effort but from his arms, and placed her gently on the floor. She gaped at him, but Octavia had already walked on, so Bellamy turned and strolled off. 

She hurried to catch up, half tripping over a root as she reached him. His hand shot out to steady her again.

"Do you like, bench press trees?" she challenged, suspicious. Why was he so strong? Hadn't he been a janitor? But thinking back on it now, how had she missed his strength beforehand? Their very first day on the ground, he'd caught her from falling with one hand. He'd carried Finn in his arms, all the way back to camp when he'd been stabbed. She'd treated people with concussions for days after they'd been punched by Bellamy, and that happened quite often in the first couple of days they'd been on the ground. Asserting dominance, and all that. 

"Nah," he grinned down at her, and damn she'd missed the full extent of his height too, she practically had to look skyward "Just boulders and the occasional child." 

"You're hilarious." she rolled her eyes. He nudged her with his elbow into her side, grinning, almost sending her stumbling into the dirt, though he caught her with a hand on her forearm before she could fall. He laughed and shook his head. 

"You really have a balance problem, don't you?" he chuckled. 

"I do not." she huffed. He nudged her again, and this time she did trip over her own feet, and landed in a heap on her side. He stopped, blinked down at her, and then tipped his head back to laugh loudly. 

Octavia appeared, frowning at the situation. "What happened?" 

"Your brother pushed me." Clarke huffed, sending him a glare. Bellamy was still laughing as he reached down for her and pulled her - quickly and easily - to her feet. Octavia punched her brother in the chest, glaring viciously. 

"That's mean." she accused him. 

"It was barely a nudge, O." Bellamy carried on walking, tossing the words over his stupidly large shoulder as he walked "Her balance is shocking." 

Was this the next step of a relationship with Bellamy Blake? Clarke wondered idly as they walked, playfulness? Nudging her, steadying her, picking her up?  _Helping_ her in general? If Clarke had to assign a term to Bellamy Blake, it would not have been  _helpful,_ or  _playful,_ or _gentle_. Yet that was how he'd handled her, ever since the bunker. 

She sighed, wondering how Bellamy would surprise her next.

**** 

Clarke collapsed against the make-shift work table she'd adopted into her life and lovingly named Albert. Today had been hard, too hard. Fifteen kids had come down with stomach sickness. Bellamy had gone on a hunting party and come back with three injured, one with a broken ankle, two with deep wounds from the tusks of a wild boar. 

Between the fifteen kids constantly needing to be checked on, splintering the ankle and sewing the wounds, she hadn't had a moments rest, hadn't had a second to eat or drink, or even breathe for herself. Being the healer of 100 reckless, excitable teenagers was really starting to ware Clarke down. 

Octavia had been in the med bay today as well, and she'd chatted and chatted and chatted, until Clarke had snapped at her rather harshly a few moments ago, sending the younger girl scurrying out of the dropship with big watery eyes and a trembling lip. 

Clarke felt terrible about it, and had been about to stumble after her friend, but she'd staggered on her way out and slammed against Albert, and now she couldn't muster the energy to get up from her slumped position against him. So instead she buried her face in her hands and let out a low, wrenching sob.  

She cried into her palms, like a small child, body heaving with the force of her exhaustion and frustration. She didn't even hear the  _swsssh_ of the drapes/door swaying as they were pushed aside, but she did hear the clattering of boots as they stepped into the med bay. 

"I don't care." she sniffled at whoever it was, "I literally don't fucking care, even if it is bad. For five fucking seconds, I'm not the healer. Get out." 

There was a long pause, and then the clatter of boots again. She breathed a sigh of relief, good, her tears had scared them-

A heavy set of arms enveloped her, and she gasped, trying to straighten up so she could shove whoever it was away, but they clamped her to their chest, big arms winding around her back, their chin on the top of her head. 

"Swearing doesn't suit you, Princess." and holy mother of earth she knew that voice, the bane of her existence, the unsteady almost-friend but definite ally. He was comforting her, and did she feel better? Was that weight lifting from her chest? Surely not, but suddenly it felt easier to breathe, even though Bellamy was holding her as if she was falling apart. 

"I'll swear whenever the fuck I want." she grumbled, voice muffled against his chest. He laughed, and oh damn hearing that sound through his chest was probably one of the best sounds she'd ever heard, all the way up there with wind through the tree tops and rushing rivers and her father's bedtime stories. Not that she'd admit it. 

"What's wrong, Clarke?" he pulled back and held her at arms length, raising his dark eyebrows when she hurried to wipe the tears off her face and the snot from her nose. She was still crying a little, but managed to choke out a laugh.

"Just-" her voice was ridiculously wobbly "The pressure, it's just-... A lot, to deal- to deal with." 

He stared at her, long and hard, probably judging the shadows under her eyes, the paleness in her face, the sunken look to her cheeks. He nodded then, still with slightly narrowed eyes, and before she could even let out one word of protest, he'd bent and knocked her knees out from under her, catching her as she started to fall and hoisting her up into his arms. 

"Bellamy!" she gasped, but her voice was weak with exhaustion, and the punch she gave his shoulder was especially pitiful. "I c-can-... walk, you kn-know." she forced out around her tears as he strolled with her, very casually, out of the dropship and across camp. He'd gathered her against his chest, and surely, being this warm was _not_ healthy. She'd check his temperature soon, to make sure he didn't have a fever. 

Her tent was dark when he ducked into it, unconcerned with the fact he had to bend even with her weight in his arms. He stood for a long moment, looking around - waiting for his eyes to adjust, probably - before he moved to lay her down on her bed. When he'd settled her down, he disappeared from her line of sight, but a moment later she was jostled slightly as he pulled off her boots, and then moved again when he lifted her to peel her jacket off.

There was another long moment, then his voice, which was quiet and angry. She was surprised at that.

"Clarke," his voice was a deep growl "Why do you only have one blanket?"

"Gave the others to the... kids." she murmured, already half asleep. "Didn't need mine."

A weight settled over her, a weight that was too light, really, but she didn't mind. She felt his presence disappear, along with annoyed muttering. For a second she was irritated with the fact he hadn't even said goodnight, but rolled over, too tired to dwell on it, her eyes already sliding closed. 

She woke with a start as a small, muffled yelp was let loose in her tent, and sat up groggily to look about. 

"Grounders?" she muttered, still half asleep "Someone hurt? Broken bone or cut? Those kids need to be kept on their sides and given water every half hour-" 

"Shhhh, quiet, it's alright, it's okay, Princess." there was a hand on her head, stroking her hair, another hand on her shoulder, pushing her gently back down onto her bed. She slumped down, still murmuring instructions, until finally there was a hand over her mouth, cutting off her words. 

Warmth engulfed her suddenly, a heavy weight settling over her limp body and she forced open her eyes and looked down to find fur blankets strewn about the bed. She frowned, more awake now as she peered upwards towards the person she could kiss right about now.

"Go back to sleep, Clarke." was that _Bellamy?_ Okay, maybe she wouldn't kiss him then. "Can't believe you gave your blankets to the other kids. People shouldn't be as good as you, you know. Gonna get you fucking killed one day, Princess." 

"Swearing doesn't suit you," she murmured back.

"I'll swear whenever the fuck I want." she laughed, and he joined in after a minute. "Go to sleep Clarke, I'll take care of the kids." 

"They need to be rolled onto their sides-"

"I heard you, Princess. Shut up for once, and get some rest."

"So pushy," she murmured. There was a chuckle, somewhere above her head, and then a chaste press of lips against the skin of her forehead, a soft, barely there brush of a hand against her cheek, and then she was slipping into sleep, completely exhausted.

Her last thought before she sunk between the welcoming waves of darkness was a soft, almost happy murmur from her brain telling her that yeah, she definitely liked how hands on Bellamy Blake was.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like books and the 100 (and obviously you do, duh) you can find me on tumblr and instagram at bibliowitch for both of those sites, and you can come talk to me about books and the 100 and anything else tbh cuz I like talking, if you have requests for any more fics then you can ask me on tumblr too :)


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